Some Things Are Never Forgotten
by superwhosaur
Summary: My own version of end!verse. Major character death - don't say I didn't warn you...
1. Chapter 1

It was damp and cold, and unusually so for early fall. The silence was deafening, the only thing to make noise was the occasional shrill rattle of the tall, barbed chain link fence that surrounded the small compound. The barrier had always been there, but it came in disrepair and took a lot of grief filled hours to mend it strong enough to withstand the threat on the outside. It was the only thing that kept the walkers away from the surviving humans. The compound consisted of a small cluster of metal roofed buildings. Some were more like shacks, in fact. The center building, and also the largest, boasted a small chimney where grey smoke billowed from its shadowy depths. It was where the humans huddled on cold nights such as this one, trapping the heat from the warm fire and the numerous bodies that laid out on the wooden floor with exhaustion. There was always one or two that stayed awake, keeping watch in the dark of the night, ready at any instance to defend the only thing they had left in the desolation of Earth. The humans were getting low on food and supplies, and soon they would have to venture out into the dangerous world outside of their protective gates and for some, that meant never coming back.

The ex-hunter, Dean, took his post outside of the warm building, rubbing his hands together in hopes of some warmth. A fully loaded, semi-automatic rifle balanced on his lap as he fought of the tremors of the damp cold. He cursed under his breath, causing puffs of steam to escape from his terse lips. The only thing that could be worse than sitting out in the cold, was doing it alone. He always either had his little brother or his long time angel companion, Castiel, by his side, to which he relied more on the latter since the angel never had to worry about the unfavourable weather conditions that Oregon undeniably doled out. When the virus spread around the world, it attacked the major cities first, quickly spreading to the farmlands until there were few survivors left. And those who did survive, lived a terrible life. Most would find it unfit for human existence. But those who tried, clung on to the hope that one day, they would be the beginning of a new era. An era where there were no flesh eating zombies to threaten their lives at every turn.

Many hours went by unspoken, as did most nights on watch. Even though they were protected by the sturdy fencing surrounding them, it still seemed dicey to cause too much noise, especially at night. Despite the risks, Dean looked up tiredly at Castiel, who sat motionless against the wall of the building, gun resting on the ground with his finger still on the trigger. "I've been thinking a lot lately, about how we used to hunt. You, Sam, and I. Remember, Cas?" Dean spoke low and raspy, trying to keep his voice down. Cas snorted, turning to Dean with a smirk. "How could I forget?" Dean smiled weakly, looking back to his numb hands. "Do you ever wish-" Cas hushed him, noticing the outline of his jacket was quivering with chills. He pulled off his trench coat and draped it over the freezing man before replying grievously, "There isn't a day I don't." He patted Dean on the back and slumped back down against the building. They didn't say much more for the rest of their post, when Sam and Bobby relieved them in the early morning hours.

Sunrise had come all too soon as Dean woke up bleary eyed to the glare of the bright morning sun seeping in through the window. He felt like sinking back in the warmth of his blankets, dreading the day ahead as it was time for another raid in a nearby town. They didn't dare try the cities, even though they could have stocked their supplies for a few years. It was way too risky even for Castiel, who was immune to the virus. Dean rose wearily to his feet, shrugging his jacket on before waking the others. Not everyone went out on raids, but if you were a good shot or knew a thing or two about survival, you had no choice but to tag along. They went out in a group of two vehicles and one pick-up truck that was armed with a mounted automatic gun and a snow plow on the front. They weaved through the deserted cars that littered the roads, occasionally coming across a walker who was swiftly laid out by a gunshot to the head. The town was about fifty miles away, all the closer towns they had already cleaned out and the group feared that they would soon have to find different shelter because gas was scarce and even more so were the supplies they needed to survive.

Finally arriving at their destination, they jumped out of their vehicles quickly and quietly, scattering in pairs to different stores in the town. Dean took Sam, Cas with Bobby, and Jo tagged along with Ellen, splitting up in opposite directions, canvassing their surroundings for nearby walkers. The safest way to get through a raid was not by the way of guns because the noise brought the walkers in for miles, but rather silent makeshift weapons such as axes, ice picks, baseball bats, crossbows and other creative weaponry. It hadn't taken them long to fill their bags full, silencing the stray walkers as they went, and started back for their cars at the sound of a low, fingered whistle. Dean counted everyone, his heart jumping in his throat when he noticed Cas missing from the group. "Where the hell is Cas, Bobby?" He bellowed to which Bobby replied, "I don't know, he was right behind me!" Dean whipped his head around at the sound of a hoard of zombies that were way too close for comfort. "Get in! Everybody in!" He shout, frantically searching for Cas, suddenly spotting him running towards them, zombies closing in on him from all directions. "Dean! Get out of here! Go!" The last Dean saw of the angel was a walker clinging to him from behind ripping into his neck, tearing flesh away from his vessel. He looked away and breathed "no", tears stinging his eyes as he clambered into the vehicle, roaring off with the rest in tow, the hoard of zombies visible in his side view mirrors. He watched helplessly, until they were no longer visible, trying to watch the lonely road ahead through tear stained eyes.

A loud commotion came from one of the smaller buildings, the one that Dean made his home. It was only one room, with a small mattress in the corner and a sofa chair accompanied by a side table and a lantern. Sam and Bobby were inside the cramped space, wincing as Dean swiped at the table viciously, sending its contents crashing to the floor. "Don't you dare say that, Sam, not now!" He roared, soon giving in to the old chair, nauseated from the pain that suffocated his heart. Sam resigned from trying to comfort his brother, stepping away, overcome with grief and guilt. Bobby braced himself and stepped forward, kneeling down in front of the heartsick boy he considered his son and clasped a firm hand on his shoulder. "We'll go out and look for him tomorrow, son. We'll give him a proper burial." He spoke softly, trying to salvage any sliver of closure in the worst of situations. Cas was the only one he let in, outside of Sam and Bobby. And Dean confided in him, things that he would never dare tell Sammy. God forbid he ever knew he was terrified of what was going to become of them and Cas just accepted it, listening thoughtfully and giving advice where he could. He had become more human than angel since the spread of the virus which had almost taken on five years. Though he still had his powers, he had become much more subdued of his righteous ways, much more capable of expressing emotion. The loss of Castiel took away all the fight Dean had left in him and seeing him get taken away from him by those wretched sons of bitches pushed him over the edge. But even in his absence, he knew it was only right that they laid him to rest properly. Or what was left of him. The thought made Dean cry out in agony.

Bobby was pleasantly surprised to see Dean emerge from his shack, although his appearance was worrisome, making him frown at the sight. "Boy, have you even slept?" It had been two days since the raid, and Dean was looking raggedy with his unshaven face and dark circles under his eyes, but all he could muster up was a heartless shrug. Bobby knew he was wishing he was knee deep in a liquor store somewhere. "C'mon. We got some good food cookin' tonight. And I even got a little bit of whiskey left for ya." Dean's eyes lit up, if only just. But it was enough for Bobby to reel him in, wrapping an arm around his worn shoulders, guiding him to the center building. The sight of all the people he had saved and kept alive all these years made him want to well up and crawl back on his mattress on the floor. There were Jo and Ellen who greeted him with a warm smile, continuing with the preparation of dinner rations. Even a few strangers he took in under his wing, to which they were grateful for, even turning out to be useful in growing crops which Dean never had a knack for. He'd preferred killing things, not growing them. And then there was Sam who was sitting next to Laura, the newest member of their group. She was a sweet girl, beautiful too, if Dean didn't say so himself. Sam had instantly taken a liking to her, the feeling very mutual. It always seemed to cheer Dean up even in the worst of times, and the sight of them together brought a faint smile to his face. At least his brother had finally found some happiness.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day they went out in search of Castiel's body. Bobby drove, leaving Dean riding shotgun and Sam back at base to keep watch. It was a dreadful drive, riding in silence the whole way. Dean kept going through scenarios in which he would find Cas, ripped apart and barely recognizable and it made him sick. He wanted to think of anything else but his mind always strayed back to that moment, watching the angel's throat get ripped apart, swallowed by the swarm of walkers. He looked up hesitant to see the outline of the town in the near distance. He worried if he would actually be able to go through with it. They shut the doors almost soundlessly, well-practiced by many years of sneaking around unnoticed. Dean squinted looking for any sign of Cas where he last saw him, but there was nothing. He looked over to Bobby on the other side of the street, who shook his head finding nothing either. His eyes darted over to see a handful of walkers shuffling towards them, their spine chilling moans filling his ears with that familiar terror that woke him up in nightmares. He raised his crossbow, dropping two to the ground with head shots, missing the third which Bobby took care of throwing a dagger in the side of its head. He turned to Bobby, shooting at a walker that came on his backside when an excruciating pain ripped through his calf muscle, sending him leaping in the air crying out in agony. He spun around and realized he had missed one of the zombie's head by inches merely knocking it to the ground. Two more arrows went straight through its bloodied, stringy haired skull.

Bobby sprinted to Dean, slicing the heads clean off any walkers that remained in the area. He grabbed Dean lifting him up off the weight of his leg, a chunk of denim and flesh missing, exposing muscle and bone. Dean breathed heavy, trying to shake off the flush, stabbing sensation that overcame his body. "Give me the gun." He panted. "Dammit, Bobby! I said give me the gun!" He yelped, wincing at the crippling pain. "I'm not gonna leave you here, boy!" Bobby tugged at his jacket, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "I'm all out of lifelines, Bobby. I think we both know that." Dean growled pushing himself up, gripping Bobby's shoulders. "You... You tell Sammy I love him, alright? Take care of him good, Bobby." Dean grabbed him and squeezed as hard as his fatigued body could manage. "You were the best father I could ever ask for." Tears streamed down both the men's cheeks, unable to let go of each other. "Now get out of here. Someone's gotta drive my baby home." Bobby pulled away from him, ruffling his hair and kissing his forehead. "See you on the other side?" Dean smiled nervously, nodding his head. "See you on the other side."

Dean watched as Bobby drove away until he couldn't see the outline of the Impala anymore. He winced and lowered himself to the curb with sharp breaths, every ounce of him trying not to scream. Leaning up against a metal sign post, he fiddled with the white handled pistol Bobby left him, reminiscing on all the times he had used it chasing werewolves and vampires and other nasty sons of bitches. He wished he could go back. Everything seemed so simple then, but now... Now nothing made sense only survival and even that had failed him. The safety clicked off softly, which made his mouth twitch. He had always figured he would go out bang, but not like this. Dean could feel the infection setting in, heat spreading all over his leg. He toyed with the gun for a few minutes longer, settling in for what would be his last breath.

"Dean! No!" A voice strangled, barely managing to pass by his hearing. He whipped his head around looking for any movement, confused by where the voice had come from. He clambered to his feet, hopping around trying to stabilize himself on one leg when he saw the trench coat. And then the face of a man who had been chewed alive and then poorly sewed back together. His heart raced, stumbling away from the man he was unsure of whether he was turning or already turned. Castiel had managed to piece himself back together, giving him the appearance of Frankenstein. Dean shook his head, unable to register what he was seeing before him. "C-Cas?" The angel stepped forward bashfully, not wanting to startle Dean into thinking he was one of the walkers. "Sorry... my speech is... a little... well... you try having… your vocal chords… ripped out." His voice was barely there, a hoarse, strangled sound from the trauma he'd endured. Dean sagged, almost crumbling to the ground in shock when Cas caught him, hauling him up on his feet again. "It's going... to be alright… Dean."

He sat him down again on the curb and tore away his pant leg, gingerly settling his hand gingerly above the bloody divot that used to be his calf. Dean exhaled deeply, overwhelmed with the relief of the sharp pain that swelled and swirled through his leg. He threw his arms around the angel, pulling him in as tight as he could. "I thought you were dead." He leaned back, looking at Cas, taking in the bloodied mess, wanting to brush his fingertips against the pink, scarred skin that masked his neck and chest. Just days ago, he had watched walkers sink their filthy teeth into the angel and yet here he was, kneeling before him and very much alive. He honestly didn't know whether to laugh or cry or both. "You look like hell, man." Dean chuckled, holding back tears of joy, which was a new feeling to him after so many years of heartache and loss. Cas rolled his eyes and playfully shoved Dean, retorting, "Like you look… any better… asshole." Dean smiled even brighter and pulled Cas to his feet, it was more than he had in what felt like years. He grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him towards the direction of their camp. "C'mon let's get outta here."


	3. Chapter 3

The man and angel shuffled without a word down the desolated road, cars and debris littering their path. Dean found a baseball bat from one of the trunks, somewhat hoping to use it for some tasteful retribution. Faintly, he whistled a Led Zeppelin song attracting only Cas' attention to which the angel desperately tried to stop. He resorted to silencing him with the sound of his true form, gloating at his success with a smug smile. Dean shot him a peeved look and whistled the last bit of the song before giving it up. He grinned at the angel, acknowledging his annoyance by elbowing him in the ribs. "Dean, sometimes… you make me feel like… I'm friends… with a five year old," he wheezed. But Cas returned Dean's mischievous grin with one of his own. He stared down at his loafers which were scuffed and worn and bloody, unable to renew from the lack of power. He refused to tell Dean the reason he couldn't just 'zap' him back to camp was because he used all of the power he had saved up healing him from the bite. It was going to be a long walk home, and he prayed hard for any kind of help from Heaven so they wouldn't have to walk down the dangerous roads, especially at night.

The sun was starting to set and soon they would be consumed by the dark, unable to see the looming threat that awaited. They found a tree with branches low enough for them to climb up, far away from the ground and away from grabbing hands and flesh eating teeth. Staying on the ground and building a fire would only attract the walkers and who knows how many where wandering around in the woods. The silence of the night was disconcerting with all the crickets and frogs gone, replaced only by the distant sounds of gurgled moans. The temperature was dropping rapidly, making Dean's teeth clatter—his body unable to retain any heat except for what his leather jacket provided him, which wasn't much. He refused when Cas offered his jacket, because even though he couldn't see much, he could still see the battered angel shivering just as badly as he was. Dean moved clumsily down to the branch where Cas sat and huddled in close next to him. "I swear if you say anything about this, I'll hurt you where the sun don't shine. Got it?" Cas only nodded his head, grateful for any warmth he could get, instead pulling Dean even closer to him. Dean drifted off, his head leaning against the angel's shoulder, exhausted from the hell he'd been through the last few days.

Cas watched the sun rise slowly, anxious for the warmth it would bring. Even with Dean's body pressed against his own, the warmth wasn't enough for either of them and by morning, they were stiff and numb all over and barely able to move. Dean dropped to the ground with a thick thud, unable to hang on to the branches as they worked their way down the tree. Cas quickly jumped down after him and weakly picked him up, pulling an arm around his shoulders to help him walk. It had been a few hours of supporting Dean as they travelled on and it began to worry Cas. He should have been able to stand on his own by now, but every time Cas let his weight down even a little, he stumbled to his knees. Checking that they were momentarily safe from the walkers, he set Dean down gently, wiping the sweat beading on his forehead. "You're burning up." Dean's head lolled forward, any strength he had left in him disappeared. He was feeling flush and lightheaded and all he wanted to do was go to sleep. He didn't even have the energy to tell Cas something was definitely wrong. Cas held his head up, looking over his glassy eyes and flushed, glistening skin. He smoothed his hand over his head before heaving his body up, cradling him in his arms and set in for the long journey ahead. He cursed Heaven for leaving him here like this. He didn't have enough power heal whatever was affecting Dean and he was afraid it would be too late by the time he got him back to camp.

Time went by slower than Castiel had ever experienced. His body ached with pain from the weight of the limp body he carried in his arms. It concerned him on numerous occasions that he wouldn't be able to go much further, but he pressed on knowing in the back of his mind that was all he could do to keep his longtime friend from dying. He thought of all he could as to why Dean fell so ill. He didn't understand. Dean was cured of any possibility of infection and he was perfectly fine the day before. It just didn't make any sense. He thought it was his powers, and maybe the infection was still there and it was just taking longer to set in but that didn't fit either. He was still very much human and very much alive, yet he could see the life draining from him as his fever rose dangerously. Everything made him want to scream at the top of his lungs. His attention pricked at the sound of an engine far off in the distance. It gave him a flicker of hope from the despair that threatened to ruin him and his chance to save Dean. Cas forced himself to walk quicker than his ragged, torn body could muster, anxiously awaiting the moment when he would see a moving vehicle in the distance. He hoped even more that it was someone he knew.


	4. Chapter 4

Tears streamed down Castiel's cheeks at the familiar sight of the Impala growing closer, weaving carefully through the abandoned cars that scattered awkwardly over the black top. Bobby and Sam had come back to retrieve Dean from the town to lay him to rest but instead, the car screeched to a stop and the doors flung open, Sam and Bobby running out to greet the ailing pair as fast as they could manage. Sam reached them first, breathlessly checking over Dean for any sign that he might have the infection. Cas squeezed his eyes shut, pain and fatigue finally overcoming his body. "What's wrong with him, Cas?" Sam pleaded for the angel to answer, his eyes filling with tears and worry but all Cas could do was shake his head, closing his eyes again so he wouldn't have to face Sam. The younger Winchester took Dean from his arms and rushed him to the Impala, Bobby helping Cas limp along behind. He turned to Cas as they were closing in on the car, concern set in all over his face. "Is he infected?" Cas furrowed his brow, still so unsure as to what was causing Dean's fever. He managed to croak out, "No. I… I healed him. Its… something else… is wrong. We need… to get him… back to camp. Hurry. Please."

Cas fiddled with his blood stained fingers, unable to think of anything but getting back to camp and getting Dean the help he desperately needed. His mind trailed off to Heaven and the thought that they would abandon him in a time like this made his blood boil with anger. There had to be a way to get through and he had a sour feeling that whatever medicines they had back at camp, it wasn't going to cure Dean. He closed his eyes and tried to materialize, reopening them disappointingly to see he was sitting where he was before. His heart sunk. Unless Heaven acted quickly, he would be completely useless to the humans and he wasn't going to have that. He tried one more time before deciding the effort was futile at best. Cas turned stiffly to see Dean laying in the back seat with his head in Sam's lap, the fever knocking him out cold. He leaned over the front seat and tried one more time to heal him with the last of the power he had left in him, his heart sinking when nothing changed. Sam patted him on the shoulder with a timid smile, knowing the angel had done everything he could to keep his brother alive. He just hoped it wouldn't be for nothing.

Sam and Bobby carried Dean into his one room hut and laid him out on the bed, sending Cas to go fetch Ellen. They got there to see the two men standing around the bed where Dean slept, unaware of the world around him. He looked tranquil, like he was supposed to be sleeping. But Cas knew better from his pale lips and sweaty skin. Ellen, jumping into action as soon as Cas told her what was going on, ordered Sam and Bobby to put him in the tub she'd filled with ice cold water. Dean sprung to life for an instant, screaming and thrashing around in the freezing water before passing out again from the shock. Cas uncomfortably handed them towels to pat him dry, wanting badly to get some fresh air so he left to sit outside. Sam knelt down next to the mattress, stroking his brother's hair in efforts to keep from crying. "You promised, Dean." He whispered so no one could hear. "You promised we would make it out of this shit hole together, remember? You can't give up. We need you. I need you." He grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight, trying to hide the tears that rolled down his cheeks. A ragged gasp escaped him as he felt a frail squeeze from Dean's hand. He watched as his brother struggled to roll his head over to face him, closing his eyes for a few minutes before trying to speak. Sam leaned in closer to hear him, smiling that his brother was awake, if only barely. "I love you, Sammy. I love you so much. Tell Cas…" He gasped for air, the words he tried to say unable to come out. He closed his eyes again, waiting until he could speak. "I owe him one." He managed a weak smile and squeezed his brother's hand again, exhaling peacefully before his heart gave out.

* * *

**A/N: I wanted to apologize for the short and abrupt ending chapter... I am still thinking of ways to make it not as horrific (and more than three paragraphs, might I add). This is my first story with major character death so towards the end you can definitely start to see the decline of my abilities to fight the waves of feels. Hopefully one of these days I will get around to it, once the emotional scarring goes away ;) But really hanks for reading though- it means a lot and I hope it wasn't too dreadful! **


	5. Epilogue

Dean opened his eyes, finding himself in a large bedroom that was unfamiliar to him. He looked around, unsure of where he was or what he was doing there. He got up and padded down the soothing grey hallway, coming out into an empty living room with a giant flat screen. He rubbed his head, feeling like he was forgetting something but he could remember what. He spun around to the kitchen that was across from the living room. It was like something that was cut out of Southern Living, but more simple. It was the kind of house he always pictured himself living in. Dean paused for a minute before opening the front door. There was something in the back of his head warning him to be careful, that there may be something on the other side that he wouldn't like, but the thought was so vague to him. There was a lawn as green as he'd ever seen and a white picket fence, but he couldn't tell what was beyond it. He ran a hand through his sandy brown hair, so confused about where he was when he heard sobbing coming from somewhere. He searched the entire property, looking for the source he never found but always followed him. Then he heard his name from a voice he could never forget. He had to find Sammy. Fragments of images from another place kept darting through his mind. A depressing place, with many buildings and few people. They were all sad and scared and uncertain of how soon their lives would end. His brow furrowed when images of a bloodied man in a trench coat stood over his brother with a hand on his shoulder but he couldn't remember his name. Another voice seared through his mind much clearer than Sam's had. It all came back to him then and tears welled up in his eyes, realizing that this was his own Heaven. That he had let everyone down. But he could still here them, and Castiel, the fallen angel—his saving grace. _If you can hear me, Dean, I just want you to know you're safe now. I don't know when I'll see you again, but I promise I will do my best to look after Sam for you. He misses you so much, Dean. It's so hard to see him like this, but I told him he has to be strong. For you. Also, I never got to tell you how honored I am to have been your friend. You mean a great deal to me, Dean and I regret not saying it more. Oh, and one more thing. Try not to get into too much trouble. I really don't want to save your ass from Hell again. Yeah. Well… until next time, my dear friend._


End file.
